


iudiciis

by lamermardi



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Drastic measures, Skagos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-08-14 10:56:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8010982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamermardi/pseuds/lamermardi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the night is long that never finds the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Dead Knight

The water was warm.

The white stones around it were warm to the touch as well, like countless full moons had rained down for a day and a night on this lake. Only this place was without snow, of all of Skagos. The heat of the earth rose, and colored the mountains purple with fog. The trees all dipped their curving roots in the water, save but for a sliver of beach. There the dead knight had elected to rest. It was a proper thing, to rest, and it had not been easy to do of late. From white harbor to here, he had hugged the shore as much as he could, spending nights off the Broken Branch near Widow's Watch, in the Grey Hills, and in nameless hamlets in between. He had given them names though; _Dale harbor, Allard cove. Foolish names, and futile_ , Davos thought now. Often he had held his hand to his chest when his cog had shuddered against submerged daggers of cold stone, or slivers of ice. But his luck was never there, no more than his sons were. Yet Davos lived still. _I have reason to be_ , he told the sky. _I live for a purpose._

Davos made a small shelter out of the thick bows of a pine he had stripped with a cutlass. The cutlass had a handle of peeling blue-green paint. It was given to him by Lord Manderly along with his ship. _Promise_. Promise was a small cog, a repurposed fishing vessel, easily managed by a crew of one. When Davos had seen her for the first time, she had been named Pearl of the Mander, and her bow was brown and green. Now she was glossy black and her oars were muffled. It seemed he would always be a smuggler. Davos had covered the cog with branches before venturing inland, had removed her mast and sails and filled his pack with provisions. He stowed these now beneath the pine, darkened against the clouds bloodied by the setting sun. The peaks of the distant mountains were teeth in a mouth, and he sat on its tongue. He felt lost, and too still. Somewhere, a wolf was howling.

Night came, and dreams soon after. The knight found himself in a place he had been before, though something about it was different. Perhaps the light, white and thick as if it shone through milk, or perhaps the snow. He had never seen snow on Dragonstone before. He brushed some from the painted table. There were no painted cities anymore, no painted trees, no painted waves. All was grey and cold, and dreadfully flat. The mountains were gone too. Through the window Davos could only see the clouds, silver and twisting, rippling faster than any storm. And all around him was a creaking laughter, like shifting ice.

He woke to the sound of drums.

 


	2. The light bringer

Dawn broke like a sob, unwanted and sudden.

Melisandre could not feel the cold but she could see it. Castle Black shone. The morning had found it coated in ice from a passing storm. The Lord Commander's furs had been white with frost when they had found him. The snow around him pink. They would burn him tonight.   
Melisandre rose and remembered. _Stannis is dead, the lord's chosen smothered in the winter cold. I had not foreseen this, perhaps because I had not wanted to_. The fires recently had been of no use to her, what before had been so clear was now hidden. She felt as if she was looking in a fogged mirror.

She met the queen in the King's Tower. Selyse wore black robes with a high collar and a cape of fox fur. Her face was covered with a veil. _She is in mourning_ , Melisandre thought.   
"your grace, she said, I hope to see you at the nightfire tonight."  
Selyse spoke, and her voice was like two swords clashing: "A nightfire? Now?"  
"It must be done as soon as possible."  
The queen raised her head and her blue eyes shimmered through the veil.   
"If we must."

The red priestess watched the sky until it grew dark. Then she made her way to the princess's chamber. Shireen was sleeping soundly, her thin dark hair a halo crowning her pale head. Melisandre had always thought that within each person there was a light, that shone through the eyes and the skin and the smile, even on the darkest days. Now was the long night, and the cold that never ends, and such light was rarer now. But she saw it in the little princess, in the way her hands held at the woolen blankets, in her soft breath humming though her lips of frosted roses. The cup of milk on the bedside table was empty, and all the candles were out. _Come with me_ , she thought as she lifted the sleeping child into her arms. _We are going to find your father. We are going to save the world._

Queen Selyse arrived later, her thin face thinner against the fox fur. One arm held the fur up to her cheeks, the other clutched at a torch. Her mouth was set in a thin line that opened with a silent breath when she saw the scene before her.   
"What are you doing?"  
Melisandre answered with a question: "Do you wish to see the dawn again, my lady?"  
The queen came closer, the flames casting strange shadows on her mouth as she spoke: "I do not understand, what do you mean to do? What do you mean to do with my daughter?"  
Melisandre laid Shireen on the bed of wood. _See it as I do, please, understand_. "Azor Ahai reborn must return", the priestess spoke, moving to the queen's side. "And how must we show the Lord of Light that we need him now, more than ever?"   
They could hear the men of the Night's Watch leaving the buildings, speaking in low voices. They were carrying Jon Snow's body.

"This is the only way." She heard herself say, as if she were far away.   
"Sacrifice?" The queens voice was barely audible over the whispering of the trees in the gusting wind. Her cloak had slipped to show a sliver of moonlight-pale throat, and the smoking torch in her grasp was pointing downwards, the flames creeping dangerously close to her fingers.   
"Do you remember? If a man with a thousand cows gives one to the lord of light, that is nothing. But a man who offers the only cow he owns-"  
"Yes, the queen said, please, I understand. But if we do not do this, tell me, tell me-"  
"Then we are doomed." And in that moment Melisandre believed herself so truly that she felt as if the lord was speaking through her.   
"Will she not wake?" Selyse whispered. She was crying now.  
"Milk of the poppy. She will not wake, nor will she feel a thing."   
Melisandre took the queen's hand in her own, and lit the pyre.

 

 

 

 


End file.
